


Womb to tomb

by Dulcia



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety, Avengers - Freeform, Bucky Barnes - Freeform, Depressed Steve Rogers, Depression, I Don't Even Know, Iron Man - Freeform, James "Bucky" Barnes - Freeform, M/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Natasha Romanoff - Freeform, OCD, Therapy, Tony Is a Good Bro, Vision - Freeform, Wanda Maximoff - Freeform, clint barton - Freeform, i don't know what to tag, steve rogers - Freeform, tony stark - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 00:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8349706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dulcia/pseuds/Dulcia
Summary: "Steve, you gonna get up, buddy?" Tony asked as he walked into his room. Steve just looked at him vacantly, watching the man sit on the side of the bed. "Clint and Wanda are back. They're asking where you are," Tony said, his voice oddly soft and gentle. "'M tired," he replied. Tony's hand went to his wrist as he checked his pulse. "I know you are"





	

Steve sat in the Avengers common room at the compound, eyes tired as he stared at the wall like he usually did. Natasha had been gone for two years but he knew she wasn't dead. He got postcard from places she'd never go unless it was for a mission like Dubai or Barcelona, places like that. 

Sam had gone back to DC to be with his family. Clint had gone back to New York with Wanda to get her a citizenship to go to school. Tony was always in his lab, Bruce was God knows where. He didn't know if he was dead. Anything is out there. Aliens, robots, assassins. 

He sighed heavily and turned his attention to his knuckles. He never believed he would scar but there on his knuckles was thick, ugly scar tissue from hitting a punching bag too many times after he had split his knuckles so bad he could see the bone. He stared at them, feeling almost human when he saw it. He could scar, like a human but he didn't always feel human. He felt like an old toy, broken and used one too many times. 

Vision suddenly made his presence known when he walked through the walls. "Good afternoon, Captain," he said as he glided over to the bookcase. 

"Vision," Steve acknowledged, hands clenching at his knees as he saw the material. Bucky would have a fit at the denim jeans he was wearing. In all honesty, he was surprised he even put them on at all today. He turned his attention back to the wall again as Vision went back through the wall with a book. 

It had been almost four years since he had seen Bucky. Four years. The wound he had managed to hide away when he woke up had been torn open again and it was right at the surface and this time it was staying. 

He wanted his mom, he wanted Bucky. He wanted to go home. 

"Steve," he heard Tony's voice say questioningly. The older man came and sat next to him on the sofa, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Bad day?" He asked. Steve just shrugged. Everyday was a bad day. "You gonna punch any more bags? I made an reinforced one today. It needs some testing out," he tried. 

Steve looked to Tony and then back to the wall, shrugging his heavy shoulders before looking to his hands, then his knees and then the wall. "Can we paint the walls?" He suddenly asked. 

"Um, why?" Tony asked with a frown. 

"It's too white," he replied. Tony seemed to catch on before he patted his shoulder and stood up. 

"What colour?" He asked, looking at the wall with Steve who shrugged again and stood up, the muscles in his legs feeling too weak to keep him upright. 

"Not white," he replied before he went to his bedroom, crawling under the sheets and clicking a button on the wall that closed all the black out blinds on his windows. He sat in the dark, he lost track of time, he forgot how to tell what was morning and what was night. 

•••

Steve woke up before his eyes opened, the air in the room was stale and stuffy. He stayed still in the room before hoarsely calling out for Friday to turn on the ventilators. Fresh air came pumping in, making him remember what fresh air actually smelt like. "What day is it?" He asked the room. 

"Thursday, sir. You slept for twenty one hours," Friday replied. 

"Oh," he whispered. He turned onto his back and sighed, his lungs stretching in protest as it had to be the most air he had taken into his lungs for days. 

"Steve, you gonna get up, buddy?" Tony asked as he walked into his room. Steve just looked at him vacantly, watching the man sit on the side of the bed. "Clint and Wanda are back. They're asking where you are," Tony said, his voice oddly soft and gentle. 

"'M tired," he replied. Tony's hand went to his wrist as he checked his pulse. 

"I know you are but it'd do a world of good to see them," he said. Steve just took another deep breath and wiggled his toes. "C'mon, you big and handsome oaf. Maybe there will be a surprise," Tony urged. Steve slowly sat up after that. He wasn't interested in a surprise. He didn't care, he just wanted Tony to shut up.

Tony cheered as Steve stood up, his shaking legs taking a second to remember to put one in front of the other before they walked towards an elevator which took them to the common room. When they got there, the table was set with breakfast foods where Clint and Wanda sat. 

Steve sat on the other end of the table, mechanically putting food onto his plate and pouring juice into his glass. They didn't say a word until Wanda stood and placed a small hand on his t-shirt. He was suddenly overcome with peace, energy, alertness. He looked up to Wanda and let out a shaky breath, putting his hand over hers before she went and sat back at her plate. 

Breakfast was awkward and tense and with his newfound energy, Steve wanted to go try out his new punching bag. He ate most of his food, starving from when the first spoonful of porridge hit his tongue. Porridge was something that hadn't changed since 1945. It was still bland and tasteless and you could still put as much milk in so it was either smooth or as lumpy and sticky as possible. 

He went down to the gym and punched the bag, getting blood all over the material as he challenged himself to break the bag. With this one, he knew it wouldn't happen and he only stopped when Clint pulled him away from the bag and blood was dripping from it to the floor. Clint hugged him tight, cursing at him. Steve wasn't listening though, he was watching the blood get swallowed beneath the floor. It was an easy cleaning thing Tony was trying out. 

Steve let Clint clean up his knuckles and then sent him to the kitchen to get food. Instead, he went to bed and slept for another twenty one hours. 

•••

It was Wanda who dragged him out of his bed this time, rubbing her hands over his fingers to warm him up. He had another nightmare about the ice which left him shivering. He wasn't cold though, his skin felt warm but inside he felt frozen to the core. "I want to go home," he whimpered into Wanda's side. 

"I know, Steve. I know," she told him. Rubbing his shoulders as he shook. He hated how useless he felt but he couldn't move. Not today, today would be too much. 

The next day he found himself in a pair of denim jeans and a black jumper. He thinks Tony and Clint were surprised to see him sat on the sofa, staring at the newly painted wall. Tony had it painted blue, the blue of Bucky's coat was back in the war. 

"Steve, there's a surprise waiting for you," Tony said today. Steve huffed and looked at his knuckles and then at his jeans and then the wall before turning around. 

His lungs felt like they did when he had asthma, his head spun and he felt sick to his stomach. Behind him stood his Bucky. Not the winter soldier but Bucky with his short hair and healthy skin, denim fucking jeans and a white shirt. "Bucky," he gasped. Bucky smiled sadly at him, almost as if he didn't believe that the state his friend was in was Steve. 

The blond stumbled over to Bucky, hands in front of him as if he were going to catch himself if he fell. "No," he whimpered as he saw Natasha move away from them in the corner of his eye. "You can't be real," he hiccuped as he cupped Bucky's face in his hands. 

"I'm real, pal. I'm here," he whispered. Steve's face crumpled, his eyes finally releasing the tears he didn't have the energy to let fall. Bucky's hand snaked around his neck before he felt himself get pulled into his shoulder. Steve buried his face there and breathed in Bucky's scent which hadn't changed. It was enough to set him off into a bout of uncontrollable sobs. "I know," he heard Bucky say in his ear. He didn't really process it as Bucky's arms held him so familiarly, like having home back again. 

He lifted his head off his shoulder slightly to peer over, seeing Natasha and Clint huddled together with Wanda who looked completely miserable as she watched Steve cry. Tony stood a couple of feet away, holding onto a small screwdriver and playing with it like he did when he wanted a drink. 

After a while, Steve calmed down and he felt a wave of calm wash over his body. He hid his face into Bucky's neck and tightened his arms around his torso. "Hey, baby," Bucky whispered, making Steve breath in a shaky breath before he snuggled closer. 

"Where did you go?" He asked, his voice wavering as Bucky took small steps back to the sofa. They sat down, Steve's body collapsing half on Bucky and half off. 

"I was at a rehab centre. That's what they called it. More like a psych hospital," Bucky replied before the snap of someone's fingers sounded. 

"Hey! It's a rehab centre. Look at you now," Natasha argued from her corner. Bucky rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through Steve's hair. 

"I spent two years there after Nat found me. She's helped me a lot," he told Steve, talking to him in a way that made him feel like the only other man on the planet. "Kept reminding me what I was there for."

Steve frowned and shuddered. "What were you there for?"

"You, Stevie. You." He replied. "Had to make sure my stupid husband wasn't running around on suicide missions," Bucky replied. Steve tensed. The thoughts Steve had about suicide were so horrific that they deserved their own word to describe them. He had thought about it too many times but more often than not, Tony was there or Vision was there. Friday was always there and she'd alert Tony if he were to do something. 

Most of the time, he was too exhausted to do anything at all. 

"I missed you so much," Steve gasped and crawled closer. 

"Missed you too, gorgeous." He whispered and then their lips touched and that was enough to set Steve off into another ten minutes of hysterics but he didn't, he just clenched his hands around Bucky's shoulders and savoured the moment before anyone or anything could ruin it, that anyone being Vision. 

"Ah, I see we have another visitor?" He said. Bucky jumped and Steve slouched next to him. Wanda huffed behind them and then went to stand by him. 

"C'mon, Vis. I want to show you something," she told him and guided him out of the door. 

"You gonna show me any cool stuff from the future?" Bucky asked with a glint in his eye that he hadn't seen since 1944. It didn't last long because Steve's face fell. 

"I would— I mean I want to its ju- I'm tired." Bucky's face went soft as Steve struggled. He nodded and kissed his eyebrow. 

"Then let's go to bed," he replied. They stood up and steve took him to his room before they fell onto the bed together. They huddled close, finally alone and together happily instead of violently. "What's up?" He asked. 

Steve sighed and swallowed back a lump in his throat. "I wanna go to that place you went to," he replied. Bucky didn't say anything for a while before he jostled him. 

"You sure?" He asked. Steve nodded and looked at his lover. 

"I can't be the husband you need me to be when I feel like I'm drowning," Steve whispered sadly. Bucky's hopeful face fell before he just nodded and pressed their lips together again. 

"Okay, Steve. Just sleep now, yeah? We'll talk to Nat tomorrow." He bargained. Steve nodded and let his eyes shut and this time, he felt better. Not okay but better because he was in the arms of his angel. 

2 years later 

Steve walked out of the rehab centre, suitcase in his hand as he saw Bucky and Sam stood outside Sam's car. Natasha was by his side as she chuckled at the glum faces her friends both wore. "They don't get along," she stated. Steve smiled, a real smile and then Bucky smiled back, walking up to him and embracing him. 

He lifted himself off his feet and clung to Steve like a koala. "Can we have new century sex now?" Bucky pleaded. Steve laughed and he laughed how he used to, from his stomach, through his chest and to his throat before it escaped his mouth. 

"For hours," he purred. Sam whined and Natasha laughed as Bucky kissed Steve. "Love you, missed you."

"Missed you too," he replied. Steve buried his face into Bucky's neck, feeling like a whole new person. He'd have to go to therapy every couple of days like Bucky did and Bruce (who had returned from Bora Bora) was working on an anti-depressant that worked with their metabolisms just in case they ever needed them. "Let's get you home," he replied.


End file.
